Flag planted on crumbling foreign soil
ache hiding inside the steel-plated heart
it is rare to be in the presence of that lineage
the prince who never asked for a head start
but still, does with it what he can, taking with pleasure
because he was once told that hard work pays off
and work was nothing more than how he spent the day
waiting until dusk to inherit again the life willing to bow
driving to fall at his feet
You twirled thumbs until the dry skin cracked, waiting for a fall
wishing it was at your feet, envisioning you were the pedestal
in which he used to rise again, no longer helpless
a testament to his pedigree, they will all remark
and you, a shadow to those who wear dark lenses
refusing to see the story behind the story, and the story that is yours
but it's all for good, it's altruism seeping from your bones
it's the hero willed to life